


Patent Pending

by spellcastersjudgement



Series: The Pornographic Adventures of Bastion Misawa [8]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Facials, It's Anxious Bastion Hours, Light Dom/sub, Light Feminization, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Porn Watching, Prostate Orgasms, Rimming, Tanya and Bastion's relationship is finally moving forward, camshow, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellcastersjudgement/pseuds/spellcastersjudgement
Summary: “Glad everyone found time to come see the Love Doctor. You know you can always come to me for a good time and maybe learn a little somethin’ you can use on your special someone.” Atticus winked. “I’ve got a great show planned today. I got our favorite little prince to come out of his tower and down to my humble boudoir to enjoy an evening of untold pleasure.”
Relationships: Manjoume Jun | Chazz Princeton/Tenjouin Fubuki | Atticus Rhodes, Misawa Daichi | Bastion Misawa/Tanya
Series: The Pornographic Adventures of Bastion Misawa [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/997005
Comments: 19
Kudos: 27





	Patent Pending

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall i know its been a long time since ive updated this series but now that im in quarantine and i have all the time in the world i offer this humble gift to yall 
> 
> before we begin, EXTRA SPECIAL SHOUT OUT to my ygo discord server thats been such an inspiration to me!! they've become very dear to me in the past few weeks and have pushed me to be a better writer and i will never be able to thank them enough 
> 
> go check out [Alecto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alecto) , [Life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Life_0r_Death/pseuds/Life_0r_Death) , [Cleo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressofthelight/pseuds/Cleopatra) , [Magi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmagiattack/pseuds/darkmagiattack) , [Sei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiyofira/pseuds/Seiyofira), [Cheerleader Aya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cieryuu/pseuds/Cieryuu), and [My Most Esteemed Rival](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewdofchaos/pseuds/bewdofchaos)
> 
> one final super duper chocolatey fudge coated mega super shoutout to my beta [aka my emotional support pidgeon ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeonwrites/pseuds/pidgeonwrites) who has been such an inspiration and so supportive and someone i am very proud to call my best friend <333 
> 
> now that the mushy part of the notes is complete, please enjoy this pornographic trash can fire

Bastion wasn’t as sore as he thought he would be. Actually, he felt great—he was relaxed, got a brilliant night’s sleep, felt productive because he got up early enough to run the dishwasher—his week was shaping up to be incredible and it was only Monday.

Monday morning, to be exact, and he was driving in to work. Not even the traffic bothered him, even though he had been sitting in the same position for nearly ten minutes, his car in park, coffee in one hand and phone in the other. His friends were in the group chat, complaining about being awake. Normally he would be contributing, but he had nothing to say other than that it was a fantastic morning and his latte was exceptional—completely out of character for him, which would result in a shitstorm. He had already been subject to intense cyberbullying, Briar and Dmitri overusing the eggplant and peach emojis in conjunction with asking him about his bowel movements and links to plush seat cushions.

He had thought at first he wouldn’t be able to show his face in the group chat for at least three business days; however, it was surprisingly easy to ignore every minor inconvenience (including having friends that were children trapped in adult bodies) when the world was now appearing as if it were through a Snapchat filter—everything a bit more pastel and blurred around the edges, cartoon flower crowns appearing on the heads of the drivers he could see through the car windows. Sipping the latte, the foam a pleasant texture on his tongue, he inched the car forward along with the traffic, content and serene as he heard no less than four car alarms blaring.

The DC traffic passed by easily, and he pulled into the parking garage and put his decal on the rearview mirror, indicating that this car was not eligible for towing to any wayward, overzealous security guard that felt like scrutinizing a billion tightly packed cars. He had to refrain from nearly skipping to the elevator, which was surprisingly hard—the energy in his body wanting to bubble out of him and make him do a cartwheel in the middle of the garage. Usually he trudged to the elevator, sleep not quite out of his eyes and not quite remembering his commute. Previously he had been content with not being energetic in the morning, but now that he was experiencing this he wondered how he had ever settled for not being so damn happy.

The elevator rose to floor six and he stepped out, strutting down the hall to the suite where his cubicle awaited him. He drained the last bit of his latte, the last swallow lukewarm from the long ride, and was eager to go to the break room and get himself his second cup. He wasn’t even bothered at how cheap and disgusting it was and how whoever was in charge of stocking it only bought fat free half and half and Splenda instead of real cream and sugar.

He had to penetrate himself more often. Mondays were much better the day after fucking oneself in the ass.

There was someone already in the breakroom, styrofoam cup in hand since they didn’t have the foresight to bring their own, much larger cup, making a fresh pot of whatever incredible flavor or half-off generic brand coffee it was this week. Normally he would patiently wait to fill his cup and then trudge to his desk, where Tanya would be waiting with some bright green protein smoothie matching her bright smile. Today, with the happiness, self-satisfaction and alien, newfound confidence bubbling out of his pores he left the break room with his cup still empty, legs carrying him to the back of the sea of grey cubicles where the engineers were sequestered. He’d never been to Tanya’s desk before since she would come see him in the mornings and would be the one to disrupt him from his coding to demand he take his lunch break, but it couldn’t be that difficult to locate a magenta-haired bodybuilder.

Indeed it wasn’t, and in a move that was so suave he impressed himself, he leaned on the side wall of her cube, smirking in a way that an outsider might call ‘devilish.’ “Good morning, my dear.”

He managed to get a pet name out without feeling like he was going to faint. Today was incredible.

“Sh—Bastion!” Tanya jumped, and he couldn’t resist the urge to let out a teasing laugh as she whipped around, her hair down today instead of in its normal ponytail, the strands framing her face and contrasting beautifully with her eyes. “You scared me.”

“I see that. I didn’t mean to, but I would be lying if I said it wasn’t nice for you to be the one caught off guard this time,” He smiled as she rolled her eyes, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“I’m definitely awake now, sugar, so I suppose I should be grateful.” Leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, her skirt riding up—wait, a skirt?

“No pantsuit today?” he tried to keep his tone light, joking, not make it sound too obvious he was definitely appreciative of the privilege of seeing her incredibly muscled calves, leading to her thighs which would crush his head with the slightest flex.

Slow your roll, tiger. Being unreasonably happy and confident didn’t mean he could start a train of thought that would lead to an untimely erection. He didn’t need to embarrass himself once again in front of her in that way (it would be the third time, but who was counting?). Once this episode was over he would certainly find ways to embarrass himself in front of her.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up—I didn’t do laundry yesterday because I thought I had another pair of pants but, uh, clearly I didn’t. It’s cold as fuck in here, I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive.” Tanya was pouting, honest-to-god pouting, and it was the most adorable thing Bastion Misawa had ever seen in his life. It surpassed even Syrus in levels of cute—shit, don’t think about boys in dresses, bad idea. “Take a good look now, hot stuff, ‘cause you’re never gonna see it again.”

“That’s too bad. You look nice.” Fuck—nice? He should’ve said beautiful or stunning or anything besides _nice_. Nice was the word you used when you were making small talk at the office party or meeting someone-you-didn’t-care-about’s-boyfriend for the first and last time. He could recover, though. “The color suits you”

Better. Not perfect, but better. Tanya always complimented him enough to make him blush himself silly and make it seem so easy, but trying to be casually flirtatious was a much more difficult art than he anticipated.

“Well if I didn’t know better I would think you came all this way just to see what I was wearing.” Her eyes were focused on him with a teasing glint that had his cheeks burning.

“N-no.” Shit, he was stuttering. Swallowing, he gripped his empty coffee cup in his hand like it would help him regain some control over his thoughts. “I do suppose that’s a bonus, though.”

Nailed it. He was pretty okay at this flirting thing.

“If you ever want to know what I’m wearing all you have to do is call. I’ll tell you in excruciating detail until you blush all pretty, kinda like you are now.” Picking up a pencil, she twirled it between her fingers and Bastion tried not to think of phallic-shaped things in similar colors that had been in his ass. She looked like the epitome of relaxed at the moment while he felt like he was tensing enough to snap his own vertebrae.

Focus. Breathe. He had started out this morning on cloud nine and feeling like he could take on ten, perhaps fifteen, bears with one hand tied behind his back. Since he’d already walked all the way over here and perhaps dug himself a hole he wouldn’t be able to climb out of.

The only thing left was to dig deeper.

“I, uh, I think I would like that.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he fought to keep his face neutral, fighting off a wince. His mouth kept moving, though, despite his better judgment. “I don’t think you’ll have to work too hard to get me to blush. You’re good at that.”

“It’s one of my favorite activities, sugar. I had a great time this past weekend watching you blush,” she winked. “I’m glad to see you survived. I thought for sure Camula had killed you when you disappeared into the bathroom for an hour.”

Oh right. Yeah, he’d disappeared for an hour to jerk off in a bathroom stall but he supposed it was better Tanya thought he was getting sick rather than being a deviant. “She tried her best, especially when we all went back to her house afterward.”

“They all love you, you know. They want you to come out again, and since I had to drop you off after Camula’s house I now know where you live.” She was now twirling a strand of hair around her finger, looking up at him, the dangerous glint hinting at things Bastion had thought of before and probably at things he had never even dreamed of.

Feeling like his throat had swollen closed and his heart was going to give out from how hard it was thumping against his ribs, Bastion tried to salvage what last bit of confidence he had. Ten minutes ago—was it even that long?—he was perfectly in control, actually able to contribute to the conversation rather than stand there in a puddle of his own sweat amongst the shards of his shattered dignity. There was a time—roughly three weeks ago—where Bastion never would have dreamed he’d ever have non-platonic feelings for another person, let alone see them outside of work, let alone attempt flirtation.

A passing thought of how he’d fantasized several times about being at her mercy, whether she was pinning him down in the back of her truck or had him on his knees dressed in a military-esque uniform while she berated him (the first time watching porn had really stuck with him), before he’d even eked together enough courage to approach her desk shamed him. If he only felt peripherally guilty for doing that, he could talk to her without the butterflies in his stomach or the lump in his throat making everything go to shit.

“I, uh, had a great time. I would like to do it again.” Strong start, Misawa, he congratulated himself. “If, uh—if you would like to, uh—we should do it again.”

Didn’t quite stick the landing. Next time.

“I think we should too. One day I might just show up on your doorstep and whisk you away.” Her laugh sent a tingly, warm feeling straight to his thundering heart, a smile spreading across his face unconsciously.

Now was the time. Deep breaths, say something to let Tanya know he was attracted to her.

“Do your friends have to come?”

Oh fuck.

Fuck. That sounded bad. Espada and Paladino and Camula were all great, even if the bartender did try to kill him with how she’d forced six shots on him and then continued making him drinks that had way more alcohol than required. Truthfully he wouldn’t mind seeing all of them again. Unfortunately he’d tripped over his own tongue and now sounded like a huge douchebag.

“You didn’t like them? It seemed like you were having a good time Saturday—sugar, I’m sorry if you felt excluded or anything, we’ve all known each other forever so sometimes we come across a bit closed-off.” Tanya was no longer smiling, her shoulders slumping the slightest bit, the hair she was twirling falling off her finger and back into place.

Bastion felt like he was going to either cry or vomit, maybe both in no particular order. Those errant words had hurt her— _he_ had hurt her. The remnants of his latte burned in his throat and he fought it down, running a clammy hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down. It was his mess, and even if the confidence he had experienced was but a fleeting memory he needed to slog through his own awkwardness and incompetence and general tendency to be bad with feelings and fix this.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean it like that.” Voice sounding much more confident than he felt, he continued. “They’re great, really, I just, um—I was thinking that, that— _thatitcouldbejustus_.”

The last part of that sentence was slurred together, his tongue much too big for his mouth and a bead of sweat running down the middle of his back, making him even more uncomfortable. Quite frankly, it was very possible Tanya hadn’t understood him and he would have to go through the harrowing ordeal of repeating himself.

In reality, there was only about a five second difference between him finishing his statement and her reaction, however it felt like a small eternity. The clocks had stopped and he felt like he could feel each individual blood cell coursing through his veins and all the molecules in the known universe vibrating at a frequency only he could hear.

It was all worth it.

“Just the two of us?” Tanya repeated, confirming that he had spoken clearly enough. The other possibility was that since he was always some sort of flustered around her and frequently stumbled all over himself she had learned to decipher his speech.

The hurt on her face was replaced with a sunny smile that made Bastion’s heart so happy he decided there, in that moment, he wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his life. That is, if she’d put up with him that long. “Y-yeah. Yeah. Yes. That.”

Eloquent as ever.

“Bastion Misawa, are you asking me on a date?”

“Uh, yes, I suppose I am.” Much to his credit, he had barely stuttered. Now he was even smiling, despite how he was still a nervous mess on the inside and his coffee cup was still suffering under his grip.

“Well how could I refuse? Sugar, this is the best Monday I’ve ever had! You are so adorable and romantic!” Tanya clapped her hands together, tilting her head to the side and looking like a muscular angel that could throw him over her shoulder and whisk him away into heaven.

“I thought clumsy would be a more appropriate word to describe me.” Bastion didn’t dispute her calling him adorable, since in the past that had only led to her pinching his cheek and reiterating it emphatically.

“What? Maybe a little bit, but I know that’s because you care.” Tanya stood up, and Bastion tried to concentrate on not fainting as she cupped his cheeks. If she felt how hot they were she didn’t comment, only continued beaming at him, running her thumbs across his cheekbones and making him feel special even though he was only a horny virgin computer programmer utterly smitten with a woman who could have anyone she wanted.

“—Thursday?”

Blinking, Bastion tried to recover from his momentary disconnect from reality. “Yes, sure. What time?”

“I can pick you up at seven-ish. Is that okay, sugar? I gotta give you enough time to do your makeup.” Her hands fell away from his face as she laughed, making Bastion feel a strange mix of disappointment and relief. The feeling of her touching him, whether it be pinching his cheeks or bumping her shoulder against his or whatever reason Tanya could think of to be affectionate always made him feel like he was drowning in the sweet rose-scented waters of budding love.

“Sounds perfect. Should I make—”

“You’re so cute—baby, I’ll handle everything. You just have to show up and look pretty and laugh at my jokes—just be yourself, actually.” Tanya reached down to extricate the abused coffee cup from his hands, and surely he would’ve been able to relish her touch if his fingers weren’t still numb from using it as a lifeline. “Now, I think we should go get you a refill.”

Brushing past him, Bastion turned his head to watch her walk to the breakroom. He’d follow in a second, as Tanya had fixed him coffee twice before and it tasted abysmal (he’d never had the heart to tell her given that she had looked so happy when he’d drank it). For now, though, he was going to reflect upon how he’d walked over to say hello and had walked out with a date.

A date. With a real human person. A real human person he was besotted with. He was the fucking man.

\---

Bastion, as the day progressed, realized he was not the fucking man.

He’d never been on a date. The goal of going over to Tanya’s desk wasn’t even to ask her out, that just kinda happened. Not to say he wasn’t proud of himself for not combusting on the spot (the fact he cut it real damn close notwithstanding) when he’d up and asked her but he was not prepared for the amount of anxiety his actions had caused.

They’d eaten lunch together that day, as per usual, and that’s when it hit him that he’d _asked Tanya out on a date_ which meant she knew he had feelings for her which meant there might be other _things_ she might know or expect. There was not a logical thought in his mind as he wasted the last three hours of the day with his head in his hands trying not to think of how he could barely function in her presence when they weren’t in a romantic setting, that Thursday night would be his first and last date because he would surely fuck it up by stumbling over his words and being generally undesirable and—oh god what if she wanted to kiss him and his breath smelled bad? What if he fainted on the spot?

Theoretically, he could call it off, inform Tanya that she needed to up her standards and then spend the rest of his life dreaming of what could’ve been but glad he hadn’t wasted her time. Then when he was old and on his deathbed he could use his Dying Wish privileges to hire some private investigator to track her down and deliver a message full of regret.

Was he being dramatic? Yes. Did that stop him from chewing down all his nails and destroying the end of a pencil with his teeth? No.

The icing on the top of the shitcake was that there was no way his friends could ever know about this and therefore his primary advice outlet was stripped from him. They’d be supportive of course, but Bastion had a feeling that Briar and Dmitri would waste no time in telling him this was his chance to lose his v-card and even though he was fantastically horny, Bastion was just interested in not fucking up the date and less interested in what happened after. Hell, he’d just like to kiss her cheek. Maybe hold her hand.

That prompted a new wave of anxiety. What if Tanya expected him to put out on the first date? A small voice in the back of his head, the last vestige of rational thought in a swirling vortex of self-doubt, admonished him. Tanya wasn’t like that. Sure she was affectionate and called him pet names that turned his insides to goo but she had never done anything he was outright uncomfortable with. Plus they ate lunch together and texted and such so she must genuinely enjoy his company on some level.

That quelled his anxiety somewhat, but he still felt sweaty and tense and generally fatigued, like he could put his head on the keyboard and sleep for eternity. There had to be a way to prepare for this date because it was Monday and Thursday night felt like a year from now and this was no way to live.

His phone lit up with a text notification and he got a brilliant idea. Briar’s text could wait. Bastion had twenty more minutes to kill before he could leave and the internet was a place full of information. There were certainly others suffering in this very specific level of hell alongside him and they were bound to have advice.

Leaving Briar on read just for the fun of it (he was an anxious mess but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be petty), he opened an incognito tab (here he reflected upon the fact that he logged onto Elemental Angel in a normal tab but looked up dating advice in the private one—he really was a mess) and typed in _dating advice_.

As he suspected, there was a wealth of information. He was not expecting all the hits to end with “for women” however. Did men not need dating advice? Was he supposed to be naturally good at this dating thing? He was absolutely fucked if that was the case.

Deciding that there had to be valuable information for all genders in the articles, he clicked on the first one and waited for it to load. It was entitled “7 Mistakes Single Women Make” and he settled in for an educational read.

He was less than a quarter down the page before his eyebrows knitted together and he felt like he needed to try another one. The author of the article was comparing dating to shopping for sweaters, which was a metaphor he couldn’t shit on because he’d used baseball metaphors to masturbate last night. Where it got truly ridiculous was when she started expanding upon the metaphor, stating that many women find a _good_ sweater but instead of buying it they waste time looking for the _perfect_ sweater. If women didn’t feel so entitled, she continued, then instead of continuing the search for the perfect sweater they’d just buy the good one and make do.

Bastion, as a connoisseur of sweaters and sweater vests, had several issues with this premise. First off, the perfect sweater did exist. There were wool sweaters, argyle sweaters, ugly Christmas sweaters, turtlenecks, cable-knit sweaters, quarter-zip sweaters, and a whole host of others that had found a home in his closet; there were several different applications for each sweater and the parameters for what was considered “perfect” changed depending on the weather, the event, how he was feeling that day, et cetera. Secondly, why on earth was this person discouraging women, specifically women, to settle for good enough when, according to the metaphor, if they waited and kept searching they could find perfect?

Unbelievable. He’d just wanted some advice about how to not collapse under the weight of his own embarrassment and feelings of inadequacy, not be fed garbage, misogynistic metaphors that made even less sense than his baseball metaphor.

“No phones at work, sugar.”

Snapping his head up, he scrambled to lock his phone screen before Tanya could see. “Yeah, uh, I know that, I was, uh—”

“Hon, I was not being serious. Knowing you, you completed everything an hour ago and were just killing time playing Candy Crush.”

Yes, that was a better cover story than whatever he would’ve come up with. God bless Tanya. “I’ve gotten a stern talking-to for leaving early before.”

“Well it’s ten to 5:00 and management can kiss my ass if they have a problem with it. Come on, gather your things. I’ll walk you to your car.” Tanya’s tone told him he had no room for argument.

Since he hadn’t gotten that much work done today in favor of worrying himself sick, it didn’t take long to pack up his laptop and follow her out of the office, waving to a couple coworkers who were milling about, waiting for the clock to strike five. Tanya was explaining how she had no patience for the team she’d been assigned to, that they couldn’t tell their ass end from their elbow, following it with a humorous math joke that Bastion would’ve laughed at if he didn’t feel like he would puke up his lunch (the few bites he’d eaten, that is) right onto the floor.

Tanya hadn’t brought up their impending date again. Quite frankly he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. At the moment it was good because if she said something about it he didn’t trust himself to say that he wasn’t the right sweater for her and that she needed to go find another one.

“Where’d you park, sugar?” Tanya’s truck stuck out amidst the compact cars most D.C. commuters used, and as she clicked the button to unlock it the sound echoed off the concrete, making him jump the slightest bit. Bastion was going to have a heart attack if he kept being so tense all the time.

“Um, uh, down that way.” Vaguely be motioned to the other side of the garage. It was down there somewhere but he couldn’t remember. The Bastion Misawa of this morning and the Bastion Misawa of this afternoon were two very different people so who knew where that confident fucker parked the car. “You don’t have to worry about—”

“Bastion,” she interrupted, looking at him like he should know better. He did know better. Resistance was futile.

He let her fill the silence as they walked. She always had something to talk about and was content to keep going until Bastion would interrupt with a little quip or question, so maybe this date wouldn’t be too bad. Tanya could just talk about her workout or the movie she watched or that telenovela Camula had twisted her arm into watching. An overwhelming feeling of inadequacy swallowed him, and he focused on making each step steady so he wouldn’t keel over and hit his head on the concrete. She was so beautiful and confident and interesting, there was no way he would compare.

“Bastion. Bastion, you alright?”

“Oh um,” he dug his hands deeper into his pockets and tried to think of an answer. He couldn’t tell her, as knowing how ineloquent he usually was he would make it sound like it was her fault. “Guess I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh. And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact you asked me out this morning?”

Stopping in his tracks, he choked on what he presumed to be his own spit. It either had to be that or he was finally dying. “Wh-what—no! Why would—”

“So it is. Bastion, I know you too well.” Tanya smiled, her eyes crinkling and Bastion felt like it was unfair for her to be beautiful _and_ incredibly muscular _and_ perceptive.

Clearing his throat, he stared at the concrete. The garage was quiet except for the far-off sounds of car doors shutting and engines humming to life. There wasn’t really anything he could say that wouldn’t sound pathetic or like he was trying to worm his way out of their date (which he was, but not because he didn’t want to go, but because Tanya would be better off not going out with him).

“Bastion, look at me.” And in true cliché romance movie form, she placed her hand on his chin and lifted it up so he didn’t have a choice but to sheepishly meet her gaze. It was reminiscent of this morning when she’d cupped his cheeks and smiled like the sun, rendering him a useless mess of affection and longing. “I’m not expecting you to show up in a limo and a million dollar suit, I just want you to be your normal self. You’re the damsel in distress anyway. It’s my job to be the knight in shining armor.”

That was like a bucket of cold water being dumped on his head. Though his jaw didn’t completely unclench and his stomach didn’t completely stop turning over and over and over into a useless mess of digestive tissue, her words did assuage him to the point where he no longer wanted to tell her he was destined to be alone forever and she should find someone else and settle down.

“Well, uh,” he was apparently unable to start any given sentence without stammering. “I’ve never been on a date before.”

Oh fuck. Oh shit oh fuck.

“Really?” Tanya seemed genuinely surprised, her eyes widening and her perfectly stained (she didn’t wear makeup except for lipstick, something Bastion thought was incredibly endearing) mouth dropping open. “You’re kidding.”

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet but careful to keep his chin firmly in her hand because that was the only thing keeping him anchored to reality, he shrugged. “Never had the opportunity before.”

“Well why didn’t you say so? I’m gonna make this the best date you’ve ever had, sugar.”

Much to his surprise, Bastion was enveloped in a warm and bone-crushing hug. Frozen and eyes wide open, he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, crushing him against her chest. She was so warm and from where his chin was resting on her shoulder he could smell her hair and it smelled like sandalwood and her arms were so strong and secure he felt like she could protect him from the apocalypse and he was going to faint right on the spot. Clumsily, he lifted his arms, which felt like they were full of lead and wanted nothing more than to stay glued to his sides, wrapping them around her and hugging back. Ideally, he would’ve relaxed into the embrace, maybe lay all of his weight on her and just drift in the feeling of security; however, he was still tense like a rubber band ready to snap in half.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” Unfortunately, she pulled away and took her security with her. Bastion really was the damsel in this relationship.

“I will, yeah.” He managed a small but heartfelt smile, his anxiety still scratching at the walls of his mind but no longer at the forefront. “You get home safe, too.”

“Of course I will! If they don’t get outta my way I’ll run over them.” Winking at him, she turned around and made her way back to her truck, waving.

Bastion was relieved he was close enough to his car to only need a few steps before he was sinking into the driver’s seat, resting his overheated forehead on the wheel. This morning his commute had flown by, not even the George Washington Parkway becoming a parking lot had lessened the sensation that the sun was shining out his ass and that his latte was going to give him the ability to fly. Now, as he slumped further into the unforgiving structure of the steering wheel, he contemplated just sleeping in the car.

“Holy—” The car horn made him shoot straight up, hitting his head against the rest and feeling his brain banging against the inside of his skull. Slumping back into his seat, Bastion stared up at the roof, disappointed in himself for many reasons but chiefly because he’d leaned so hard against the wheel he’d pressed the horn and scared himself.

This was a new low.

Best to get on his way lest he accidentally set off the panic button and he’d never be able to drive again without feeling intense shame.

Much like he expected, driving home was a pain, every brake light blending together, and Bastion was sure that when he died he wouldn’t get the beautiful white light of eternal peace. No, he’d get the electric red glow he’d wasted so much of his life submitting to. It seemed he’d tired himself out emotionally, however, so he felt numb to the aggressive weaving and lack of turn signals that would normally make him huff in annoyance and think of a creative insult. Pulling into his apartment complex, Bastion looked longingly up the stairs, wishing he could just teleport himself to up the three flights so he wouldn’t have to move his legs. The laptop bag was inordinately heavy and the stairs were rather foreboding.

Finally gathering the willpower to trudge up the stairs, Bastion soon found himself jamming the key into the lock and nearly collapsing into the apartment. There was barely a thought in his head that didn’t involve collapsing onto the couch, but he had the wherewithal to at least close the door behind him and gently place his laptop on the kitchen table.

The back of the couch was short enough he could climb over the back of it to sit down. Oftentimes Briar and Dmitri would roll over the back and tumble into the cushions, usually in some silly game of indoor tag. Beauregard would put on his Dad Voice and tell them not to break the couch while Bastion had a miniature heart attack. Today, however, he understood the appeal. There was something satisfying about letting gravity take hold and make you land gently yet with a nice _thump_ into pillowy bliss.

Bastion hadn’t made it over completely, his right leg hooked over the back of the couch and his neck awkwardly cricked, hanging over the edge and flipping the living room upside down. Being an anxious mess for the better part of the day had rendered him an immovable object against the unstoppable force of comfortable couch cushions and the smell of home. Blood may have been rushing to his head and thudding in his temples, but his body was finally relaxed and there would need to be a more than compelling reason to rearrange himself.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. That wasn’t a compelling enough reason for him to sit up, so instead he fished it out of his pocket and brought it to his face, struggling with the autorotate on the screen for a moment, the phone confused which direction it was pointing. This tiny little piece of plastic and microchips had access to vast amounts of information but struggled to realize it was merely upside down. Unbelievable.

_Briar Kohara (18:03): bas u bastard u left me on read_

Cracking a smirk, Bastion replied.

_Bastion Misawa (18:04): Are you that hurt you had to put it in the group chat?_

_Dmitri Kagurazaka (18:04): its called holding u accountable for ur actions_

Vigorously rolling his eyes, Bastion watched as Briar and Dmitri went back and forth telling him that he needed to be more considerate of texting etiquette. That shortly devolved into Dmitri complaining about having to go to a conference next weekend and Briar telling him to stick a flask in his blazer. Bastion couldn’t help but snort at that, offering his own condolences.

_Dmitri Kagurazaka (18:10): oh yeah look at this shit btw_

The “this shit” was a Twitter link. Bastion tapped on it against his better judgment, knowing Dmitri had probably sent some video that was only funny if he understood the five layers of memes needed to create the new meme. Dmitri had sent a Frankenmeme, as it were. Frankenmemes had a vicious habit of reminding Bastion that he was not hip and he would either consume the content and be confused for the rest of the evening or he would swallow his pride and ask his two manchild best friends to explain it to him, which quickly degraded into them roasting him like it was campfire night on a Boy Scout weekend trip.

This time it was thankfully an image, and it was simple enough for him to comprehend enough to breathe through his nose in what constituted “I’m screaming” in internet terms. He was about to switch back to the group message to offer his commentary on the meme when he saw a very compelling reason to sit up and relieve the pressure of the blood that had built up in his head.

There was “suggested for you” beneath the tweet, followed by a list of names Bastion would never admit to recognizing on pain of death.

It was very important to note that Bastion did not have a Twitter account nor did he frequent the site besides clicking on the content Dmitri put in the group message. It was also very important to note that Bastion was now sure his cell phone was spying on him. How else would it be suggesting Jaden Yuki, porn star extraordinaire, as someone who would be of interest to him?

Briar and Dmitri were back at it again in the group chat. Bastion, now properly seated on his couch, swiped the notifications away in favor of clicking on Jaden’s name. His misgivings about his phone and how much incriminating evidence it held and how his internet history was floating around in cyberspace for some poor NSA agent to comb through be damned. Even if Jaden’s account was filled with nothing but naked pictures and steamy tweets Bastion needed to see it.

Jaden’s account wasn’t full of naked pictures and steamy tweets. Bastion didn’t know how to feel about that.

Bastion did know how to feel about the ignorant amount of Frankenmemes Jaden had retweeted. Of course Jaden Yuki would be hip.

Scrolling down after finally silencing his phone because Beauregard had decided to contribute to the conversation and it was going to buzz out of his hand at this rate, Bastion sloughed through the memes and happened upon a picture of Jaden and Syrus. Not a sexy picture (it was sexy because they were both incredibly attractive individuals) but something that was rather sweet. Syrus wasn’t in his usual clothing, or the clothing Bastion was used to seeing him in at least, instead in a t-shirt and jeans, Jaden in a horrific neon orange shirt with pink Bermuda shorts, the two of them leaning against each other and smiling up at the camera, a milkshake with two straws sticking out of it between them.

It was adorable. They were sharing a milkshake. Bastion unwittingly felt a smile creep across his face. In a way this was indeed better than naked pictures, even if he was subject to Jaden’s horrendous color matching. The caption read _chillin w my day one homie_ followed by _@sytrue_ , and the replies to the picture were surprisingly wholesome with a bit of snark about how Jaden looked like a Dollar Tree highlighter, making Bastion let out an actual laugh, not the customary push of breath out his nose. There was a brief but very loud thought in his head that he should save the picture, tuck it away in a private photo album for a time when he was feeling down so he could be uplifted by their stunning smiles.

Biting his lip, he pondered if that was a bit creepy. He then remembered he had paid money to watch them both get pounded to the moon and back.

He didn’t save the picture. At least not yet. He’d reflect on it more. For now, he clicked on the _@sytrue_ , the hyperlink taking him to Syrus’ page, which didn’t look that much different from Jaden’s. It was easy to see why Jaden described him as his “day one homie.” Their humor was similar, and it seemed that every other tweet was Syrus tagging Jaden to make sure he saw the meme. Syrus posted a lot more pictures of the two of them, which made Bastion’s heart a bit too happy given that he didn’t know much about them besides their sexual proclivities. They appeared to be attached at the hip, with the pictures ranging from the two of them in various restaurants with a ton of greasy fried foods to them at the grocery store (in that one Jaden was holding up a box of Raisin Bran, sticking his tongue out, his thumb pointing down, letting the camera know exactly what he thought of the cereal), to a criminally cute one of Jaden sleeping, his head resting on Syrus’ shoulder, his mouth slightly open.

Bastion did save that one. He felt less shame than he thought he would.

There were more memes, a few original tweets mostly centering around how he was getting ready to perform, complete with links to the Elemental Angel website, and then another picture. This one didn’t feature Jaden, though. This one was Hassleberry in all his tall, dark, and handsome glory, dreadlocks tied back with a bandana covered in dinosaurs, a pair of chopsticks stuffed in his upper lip, looking like he was trying not to laugh lest he dislodge them.

_i cant take this jackass anywhere @dinodna_

Bastion felt like he was on a scavenger hunt. Dmitri’s link had led him to Jaden and now he was digging through Twitter, getting sucked in deeper by the second. Clicking on what was presumably Hassleberry’s handle, he felt like he was on a treasure hunt, though he wasn’t sure where “X” would mark the spot.

Hassleberry’s account was less meme heavy and very heavily focused on dinosaurs. Bastion would have never expected to see so much paleontological knowledge concentrated in one place outside of a library or a museum, yet here it was. Hassleberry was incredibly excited about something called a Spinosaurus, which was equal parts endearing and educational. Bastion would have to look that up later to see what the hype was about.

Though the dinosaur content was lovely, Bastion did wish there were more pictures, preferably ones where Hassleberry was shirtless and/or flexing.

Like mana from heaven, one dropped into his lap. It wasn’t posted by Hassleberry, but he was tagged in it by _@machineangellex_ . That obviously was Alexis, who actually reminded him of Tanya in the sense that he was sure both women would wreck him without a second thought. Alexis and Hassleberry were dressed in athletic clothing, posing with their arms held up, flexing. _There’s only one man I allow to kick my ass_ , Alexis’ caption read. Bastion felt a warmth in his chest at that. Alexis and Hassleberry were workout buddies, Jaden and Syrus were best friends, Syrus and Hassleberry might be involved romantically; it was a bit ridiculous to find so much joy in other people’s lives, but Bastion felt it all the same.

Bastion followed the hyperlink to Alexis’ account and found himself quite taken with the profile picture. Alexis was kissing Zane on the cheek, her leg kicked up behind her like it was a cliché lifetime movie, his arm around her waist as he leaned into the kiss. It was a stark contrast from the interactions he’d seen on Elemental Angel, where she’d dug still-lit cigarettes into his sternum and made him lick her boots. Now that he was thinking about it, Bastion conceded that it would be incredibly draining to live out that dynamic and that outside of their performances they were probably just like any other couple. Not like Bastion would know, he thought sourly.

He had a date now, though. That broke him from his fixation from Alexis’ Twitter account, catching sight of his reflection in the black screen of the television. Anxiety clawed at his insides, his stomach twisting over itself as he looked at himself. He was sitting on the couch looking at porn stars’ social media profiles while Tanya was probably _not_ doing something pathetic like that.

 _It’s my job to be the knight in shining armor_.

Tanya’s voice played in the back of his head, and he felt that bucket-of-cold-water sensation again, his increasing panic dying down to a bearable simmer. She was expecting to take the lead, had even said she’d plan everything for their date Thursday, meaning that there was a considerable amount of pressure off of him.

_Text me when you get home, alright?_

Oh, no. He’d forgotten to text her. Sure, it was phrased like a question, but Bastion knew that it was an order. When Tanya asked _will you have lunch with me, sugar_ ? or _you wont leave without saying goodbye will you, hon?_ Bastion felt compelled to answer in the affirmative, wanting in equal parts to both spend time with her and also please her. Now that he’d defied her question disguised as an order he felt disappointed and shameful, hitting the home button and opening his messaging app.

_Bastion Misawa (18:48): I’m home now. Hope you had a safe commute._

He didn’t have to wait long for her response.

_Tanya (18:49): that was a long drive home baby hope you didnt forget to text me :)_

Baby. He remembered when she’d first used that pet name at Camula’s bar, his intoxicated mind latching onto it like a lifeline, his cheeks ablaze and cock very interested. He wasn’t immune to her other pet names for him, but nothing hit him quite like ‘ _baby’_ did. It was pedestrian, he knew. It still made him feel pleasantly uncomfortable and hot and fidgety.

It made him feel _cherished_.

Dropping his phone onto his lap, he buried his face in his hands. The sheer overwhelming emotion made him transport back to his adolescent years where everything was shiny and new and each new feeling made it feel like his world was in a tailspin. What a ridiculous thing to feel from a single pet name.

_Tanya (18:50): youre not still freaking out over our date are you?_

Peeking through his fingers, he read her text over and over until his lock screen timed out and he was stuck staring at his reflection in the placid black phone screen. Truthfully, he had been distracted for the better part of forty-five minutes by Twitter, plus he had remembered Tanya’s words from earlier and he wasn’t necessarily feeling _better_ about the date, however he didn’t feel the need to move to the Arizona desert and change his name like he had earlier.

_Bastion Misawa (18:53): Not as much now. Still a few jitters._

That was an approximation of the truth. There was no way to explain the full force of his feelings without sounding like a teenager. He was ready to suffer in his own personal hell but there was no reason to subject Tanya to the depth of his emotional turmoil.

_Tanya (18:54): bastion you know i want to go out with you because i like you right_

_Tanya (18:54): if it helps dont think of it as a date! were just hanging out_

Bastion did think of it as a date, though. Last weekend was hanging out. It was a group and there was no romantic overture. Looking at the text helplessly, he thought of ways to communicate that he was ready and willing to cook her breakfast every morning and mix her green smoothies but make it sound casual.

There was no way to make that sound casual.

_Bastion Misawa (18:56): I’ll try that. Thank you for your advice._

That sounded weirdly formal, but Tanya sent back a smiling emoticon and thumbs-up, so it couldn’t have been that bad of a response. Bastion did want to text back his heartfelt feelings about how he would very much like to hear Camula refer to him as her “boy” again and that he’d like to spend the rest of his life with her greeting him at his cubicle but he refrained. He switched back to Twitter.

It was better to have scrolled through a porn star’s Twitter account than to have embarrassed himself three days before his first date.

Embarrassed himself more than he already had, that is.

Alexis’ account was similar to Hassleberry’s. There weren’t any dinosaurs but it did follow the theme of having an interest that seemed to dominate most of her online activity. He would never in a million years have guessed that the woman who paddled Zane within an inch of his life had an interest in both epidemiology and ballet. What an interesting combination. How on earth did these individuals end up working as porn stars?

That had to be an interesting story. Bastion wished he knew the intricacies. He didn’t even feel ashamed for wondering.

He remembered from his first time on Elemental Angel that Alexis and Jaden were the founders, but judging from how Alexis had several production updates and reminders to vote on the pitches for weekly specials that she had to be the one deeply rooted in the business end. Many of her tweets were no longer relevant, pertaining to several weeks ago, however there was one that piqued his interest.

_This week Jesse and Sy will be doing a Q &A before their joint performance Wednesday night! Reply to this tweet for a chance to be featured! _

There was an accompanying picture of Syrus applying lipstick on Jesse, who was puckered up in a way that was too exaggerated to be anything but a joke. They seemed to be in a backstage area, ring lights around a mirror in the background along with racks of clothing and camera equipment.

Bastion saved that. He didn’t know why really.

He clicked on tweet itself. There were over five hundred replies; most of the questions were of a sexual nature, which was unsurprising. There were a few more personal questions, like what hair dye they used to get their hair so vibrant and blue or what was Syrus’ preferred brand of mascara.

As he continued scrolling, he reflected upon how despite the fact he no longer felt the need to summon aliens to abduct him so he wouldn’t embarrass himself on this date he was very much in the dark as to how to conduct himself in a way that was both upstanding and romantic. The “dating advice” search on google was a bust (yes, he’d only clicked on one link but that god-awful sweater metaphor was enough to make him swear off of it for life) and the group message, which was still going strong and had over one hundred new messages he would have to read later, would be even less help. Maybe…maybe he could—

No. No, he couldn’t. Well, maybe. There was no guidelines—no, that never had a chance of getting answered. The volume of questions was too large—there were none quite like that, though. Maybe his question would stick out enough to earn him his way onto the Q&A.

Was he really contemplating creating a Twitter account for the sole purpose of asking a question about how to conduct himself on a first date? Yes. Was it a long shot? Also yes.

Downloading the app and entering his e-mail didn’t take long. The real struggle was picking out what he wanted his handle to be. It needed to be something unrecognizable so that in the event that somewhere somehow someone he knew was watching Jesse and Syrus perform Wednesday night (he’d already penciled it in to his schedule for this week) they wouldn’t know he was debasing himself publicly. He could, and had, debase himself privately. He’d accepted that part of himself but that didn’t mean he was ready to climb to the top of the Capitol building and shout that he was a red-blooded man full of testosterone and accustomed to jacking off.

In a moment of inspiration, he settled on _@bondingh2o_ , his favorite spell card in Duel Monsters. That was equal parts meaningful and obscure, the perfect blend of something he would remember and something he could plead the fifth out of if he was ever directly questioned about his Twitter activity. Searching for Alexis’ account and scrolling once again down to the tweet mentioning the Q&A, he hit the little speech bubble icon and was greeted with a blank canvas upon which to tweet.

This plan was not as thorough as he’d thought. He couldn’t just ask them plainly what to do on a date. That would never stick out amongst the other replies, and given that there was no stated criteria upon which Elemental Angel was picking the questions, the blank page with the blinking cursor taunted him with its infinite possibilities accompanied by its sirens call into internet obscurity.

That was dramatic. He scrubbed a hand over his face before resting his chin on his fist in a contemplative pose. He had a college degree, dammit. He could figure it out.

What was he _really_ worried about when it came to this date? He was worried about embarrassing himself, yes, but there were several facets to what constituted embarrassment. He could embarrass himself by not talking enough, by talking too much, by overdressing, by underdressing—he couldn’t start down this road again. The better part of his workday he’d spent obsessing over that sort of thing. He’d also spent time obsessing over whether or not he’d need to put out like a last-minute prom date, but that would get lost in the ocean of nasty questions (some of them accompanied with phone numbers, and Bastion wished he had a tenth of the confidence of the people who gave porn stars their contact information without preamble).

Thumbs poised over the keyboard, Bastion searched his feelings, trying to nail down the most succinct and eloquent way of summarizing the swirling torrent of emotion in his gut. Vague notions of tweets floated around in his mind, none of them quite making the cut. This had to be the mother of all tweets. This had to be the tweet that made others want to delete their accounts because it was so good. This had to be the tweet that won him the Nobel prize in Literature.

_I have a date with a girl I think I love but I'm worried. She said to act like we’re hanging out but I want it to be romantic. What can I do to let her know I’d like to make her breakfast every day and would take off my helmet in space if she asked?_

Two hundred forty-nine characters. Just made the cut. He stared at it, the blinking cursor counting the seconds, still taunting him. This was incredibly dramatic, yes, but dramatic was a good way to get attention online. If, by whatever slim chance, this question was featured it wasn’t like anyone would know who he was. He wouldn’t have to answer for describing Tanya as “a girl I think I love.” That was just to make it more dramatic, he said to himself. Thursday was their first date and when he thought about it they’d only known each other for little over a month now, so there was no possible way he felt _love_ for her. At least, not yet.

 _N_ _ot yet_. Blushing furiously and feeling embarrassed even though he was alone in the apartment, he hurriedly pressed the send button before he overthought the use of the word “love” and locked his phone so he wouldn’t be tempted to delete the tweet.

Dropping his head back on the couch, he stared at the ceiling. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel as pathetic as he thought he would after creating a Twitter account to interact with porn stars. Instead he felt…relieved, accomplished, like he had just done something constructive to fix the problem instead of doing the internet equivalent of blowing dandelion seeds in the wind and hoping they landed on a specific spot.

There wasn’t any energy left in him after that harrowing ordeal of being a sentient being with emotions. He thought briefly about how he should probably go ahead and scrounge up something for dinner but the thought of moving from where he was on the couch made his bones ache. There wouldn’t be any harm in being stationary for a while.

The ceiling no longer interesting, Bastion picked his phone up again, thinking he might go through the backlog in the group message and be a functioning and contributing member of his friend group. Twitter was still open, his own tweet staring back at him and he quickly hit the back button before he could make any rash decisions.

The back button took him to Alexis’ profile once again, but at the top of her timeline rather than where he’d left off. There was a new tweet awaiting him.

_Performance in 20! Featuring @chazzitup and @ukelelegod_

Then there was a link. A link to Elemental Angel, of course. A porn link manifesting in front of him in his hour of post-stress need. He wouldn’t even have to move from his couch, which would ideally have a distinct imprint of his body on it by the end of the night. Previous lethargy fading, Bastion clicked on the link, finding himself on the EA mobile website, his dearest companion as of late.

Bastion only had to wait for three more minutes. Usually he was already hard by the time he was face-to-face with the website, but this hadn’t been a normal day and if his dick needed a moment to catch up with the fact he was about to masturbate he’d let it take its sweet time. Chazz was in this performance, which was a real treat as Bastion hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing him perform in what seemed like forever, and whoever his partner for today was would surely be a perfect compliment. They were all hot and had no problem making Bastion aroused so he had nothing to lose.

Nothing to lose when it came to EA, that is. He had a lot to lose otherwise but he shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. This was his time. He’d asked a woman out today and made a Twitter account, both things he’d never thought he’d do in his lifetime for one reason or another. He deserved this.

Only thirty more seconds to go. Now, Bastion could feel the anticipation set in, settling low in his stomach and making the entire room uncomfortably warm. He sank deeper into the cushions, his legs falling open slightly as the anticipation reached his cock, making it twitch and start to fill in his slacks. By the final ten seconds he was breathing the slightest bit heavier, counting down along with the screen, laser-focused on whatever this performance had in store for him.

“Gooood evening everyone!”

Atticus was standing in front of the camera, flashing a peace sign and looking absolutely exquisite, his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt giving a teasing reveal of his well-muscled chest and the path of dark brown hair disappearing into the baggy cargo shorts. Only someone as stunning as Atticus could wear that outfit and make Bastion swallow hard, stomach fluttering. He remembered Atticus from that gangbang special last Friday, how he’d fucked Jesse so hard the bench had been shaking and done it all while smiling and cracking jokes with Zane and Aster. The perfect storm of sex god and class clown.

Bastion’s dick decided it was time to get with the program, now fully hard and making Bastion finally work at undoing his tie as Atticus continued talking.

“Glad everyone found time to come see the Love Doctor. You know you can always come to me for a good time and maybe learn a little somethin’ you can use on your special someone.” Atticus winked. “I’ve got a great show planned today. I got our favorite little prince to come out of his tower and down to my humble boudoir to enjoy an evening of untold pleasure.”

Bastion didn’t know if Atticus was intentionally trying to sound like one of those paperback romance novels sequestered in the corner, the kind that no one ever seemed to buy but yet there were always new titles every week. Maybe it was a character. The guy had referred to himself as the “Love Doctor” with a straight face, but there seemed to be no medical equipment in sight (here Bastion’s heart jumped and he was afraid he’d inadvertently discovered a new sexual interest of his) so the name for the character didn’t quite fit.

All of his musings about the enigma that was Atticus left as Chazz came on screen. Bastion had always been quite taken with Chazz’s beauty from the first time he’d logged in to the site. He was so slim and dainty, his skin pale enough to look like one of those Renaissance marble sculptures, so lovingly and beautifully crafted, smokey gray eyes ready to dish out a piercing glare, his pretty mouth quick with a sarcastic comment. In other words, Bastion enjoyed looking at him very much.

Here Bastion made a mental note to peruse Chazz’s Twitter, maybe find a few pictures to save.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I just saw you two minutes ago, how’d you get even more beautiful since then?” Atticus brought Chazz in for a hug so tight it lifted him off the floor, spun him around once, twice, then a third time, before setting him down. “Come on, give me some sugar.”

Though Atticus’ character sounded straight out of a b-list film, Bastion found himself becoming enthralled with it. Atticus was so sincere in his delivery; his loud Hawaiian shirt and bubbly aura exuded an effortless sexiness, like he could make reading the phone book sound like he was whispering dirty things in your ear. Watching Atticus tilt Chazz’s head up for a kiss also helped with solidifying Bastions hypothesis he was the embodiment of sex.

Bastion had thoroughly enjoyed watching performers kiss before, but watching Atticus kiss was an entirely new experience, his own mouth drying up, bottom lip between his teeth. It was so tender and passionate, Atticus’s right hand stroking along Chazz’s jaw, his left arm around Chazz’s waist, bringing their bodies tightly together. Atticus was taking full advantage of his height, bending Chazz back, using his position to plunge his tongue deeply into the other man’s mouth. Bastion was in awe of how steamy the scene was and they were both fully clothed. Atticus kissed like he would die at any moment, wanting the movement of their lips to be the last thing he’d experience. Chazz was gripping onto that Hawaiian shirt like he’d fall over under the intensity and Bastion couldn’t blame him.

“Take notes, everyone.” Atticus had broken the kiss to address the audience but was still looking at Chazz, no doubt enjoying the flush on his face and the bright pink of his kiss-swollen lips. “That’s how you give a kiss worthy of a prince.”

Bastion remembered Chazz fondly by his Olympic-gold level snark and his acerbic banter with Jaden. This knowledge led him to what he thought was the quite logical assumption Chazz was like that with everyone, and he was expecting some snappish remark about how Atticus could never be worthy of a prince, maybe something about how Chazz was very unhappy to have been talked into performing with another person.

“Atticus! Don’t say shit like that, it’s embarrassing.” Chazz turned a deeper shade of red and dropped his eyes to the floor, biting his lip to stop a smile from showing.

Huh.

“I can’t help it baby, you’re so gorgeous. You can’t walk out here in nothing but a robe and not expect me to keep my hands to myself.” 

“You can’t just say stuff like that with a straight face!” Chazz whined before huffing and turning away from Atticus, adorably crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know how to respond when you get like that.”

Interesting. By now, Bastion fully expected Chazz to have told him he was a dweeb or something. Maybe Chazz was only snippy with Jaden. Or maybe Atticus was just the exception.

“You don’t have to respond, cupcake, just bask in my words and know that they’re true.” Atticus was utterly unbothered by Chazz turning away from him, instead taking the opportunity to embrace the other from behind.

“Don’t call me that!” Chazz got out through giggles as Atticus pressed kisses to his cheek.

“What would you like then? I can call you sugar plum or muffin or baby cakes or the biggest slice of delicious red velvet cheesecake—”

Several other confectionary-based pet names later, Bastion thought he was going to get a stomachache from the sugary-sweet display. It was positively adorable, giving Syrus and his frilly dresses a run for its money. There was also a certain thrill in watching something so intimate and sweet happen on camera, like they were sharing a secret only meant for his eyes. And the eyes of however many people were also watching but they weren’t important.

“Wanna tell the class what we’re doin’ today, my little gumdrop?” Atticus pressed his cheek against Chazz’s, the two of them looking into the camera like they were about to take the world’s cutest prom picture.

The black-haired boy rolled his eyes at the nickname but his smile betrayed him. “Atticus says I’ve been tense—”

“Tenser than Jesse’s g-string straps.”

“I’m not saying that. That’s disgusting. Plus, it doesn’t even make sense.” Only Chazz Princeton could get offended by vulgarity on a porn set. “Anyway, apparently I’ve been tense and Atticus says I need one of his “magic fingers” massages.” Chazz uncrossed his arms to do air quotes, clearly doubtful of the merits of said massage.

“Copyright Atticus Rhodes, patent pending.” The taller man released his hold on Chazz, placing his hands on his bony shoulders, digging his thumbs into the flesh and kneading, making Chazz suck in a breath. “Yeah, I can feel all that tension. Let’s get you out of that robe, honey bunch, the Love Doctor wants to demonstrate his technique.”

Bastion was torn between laughing at Atticus calling himself the Love Doctor and the excited pulse his dick gave at the prospect of seeing Chazz undress. His previous amusement was crushed by the surge of white-hot arousal as the black-haired man’s hands dropped to the knot holding his robe closed. There was heat in Chazz’s eyes as he looked directly into the camera, right into Bastion’s _soul_ with half-lidded eyes and a smirk that let the audience know Chazz was well aware of the effect he had on them and was prepared to weaponize it. The silk fell away, fluttering to the ground where it landed around his feet in a pile, the camera panning up his legs, over his chest, back to his pretty face, giving Bastion an eyeful of that criminally perfect skin that begged to be marked by love bites and handprints. The last time he’d seen Chazz, the prince had been Jaden’s captive in a low-light dungeon, which was incredibly sexy and gave Bastion fond memories, but this time around he’d be able to see every mark, every pink flush.

Bastion had to unbutton his pants to relieve the pressure on his aching cock, thick and pulsing with blood, rendering him lightheaded and his thoughts useless.

Atticus seemed to be having a similar reaction to Chazz’s bare form. “Fuck, baby.” Reaching out and gently turning the other around, he hungrily appraised the work of art before him, tongue wetting his lips and eyes darkening. “Lay on the table before I change my mind and go straight to the happy ending.”

The camera panned over to one of those tables Bastion saw in doctors’ offices, except bigger and not covered in that awful crinkly paper. Chazz climbed on top of it, the camera switching angles to give the audience a view of that perfect ass as he crawled into position. Bastion wanted nothing more than to reach through the screen and put his hands on that firm, perky rear, feel how soft and smooth the skin was and see the indents of his fingers as he squeezed. For now, he’d have to settle for palming his erection and living vicariously through Atticus.

“You comfy there, my fresh slice of apple pie?” Atticus walked back into frame, carrying a bottle of massage oil.

The nickname earned him a huff and a nod, Chazz resting his chin on the table and shifting his hips enticingly. “I’m not getting any less tense over here, Atticus.”

“Oh, you poor thing. I know you’ve been waiting all day for me to take care of it for you.” Squeezing the oil onto his palm before rubbing his hands together, Atticus leaned down to kiss the back of his neck. “And I’ve been waiting all day for an excuse to get my hands on you.”

That last line was said with so much heat Bastion mirrored Chazz’s muffled groan. The same man that unironically wore Hawaiian shirts and said over-the-top nicknames had no right to speak in such a husky, sensual tone. It was dangerous for one man to have the power to make Bastion’s heart ache from how sweet he was _and_ from how filthy he could be.

“I don’t really need an excuse though, do I?” Atticus continued in the same tone, and Bastion felt like the words were being whispered directly into his ear. He would’ve fallen over if he’d been standing, the words not particularly sexy in themselves but the sincerity made him dizzy. “You’re so good for me, baby, lettin’ me have you whenever I want.”

“Not _whenever_ ,” Chazz defended himself, face beet red and fingers clenching at the padding on the table.

“Don’t be shy just ‘cause we got an audience, muffin. They already know you’re a sweet little thing, eager to please and only happy when you’re stuffed full of cock.” Atticus put his hands on Chazz’s shoulders, the oil slicking his movements as he kneaded the muscle there, the light reflecting off the sheen left behind and making Chazz’s skin look even more perfect and angelic. “My magic fingers massage does include me fucking you until you collapse, so if they don’t know already they’ll get to see how good you are at taking cock.”

Bastion was certain that the world could explode and he would still be glued to the screen, waiting for Atticus to make good on his promise.

“Does that feel good, jellybean?” The brunette had moved on from Chazz’s shoulders, now digging his thumbs into either side of his spine, working what seemed to be a genuine knot if the black-haired boy’s groan was any indication. “Feels good for me, you know—you’re so beautiful, baby, just getting to touch you like this is all I need.”

Bastion blushed, having to take a moment to recollect himself from how a man who essentially talked like he was a Lifetime movie script could be so fantastically dirty at the same time. Something about the genuine adoration in Atticus’s voice had Bastion wanting to curl into the pillow and scream like he was a fourteen year old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. A deeper part of himself bubbled up to the surface, making him realize that he would like someone to talk to _him_ like that, like something worth treasuring and protecting, loving so openly and without restraint.

Embarrassing. The words were inside his own head and Bastion was still embarrassed, making him shoo them away to focus back on the scene in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s good baby, make those pretty sounds for me.” Atticus praised as Chazz squirmed against the table. Bastion’s legs unwittingly opened a bit further. “I like knowin’ I make you feel good.”

Bending down, Atticus kissed the back of Chazz’s neck again, taking his hands off the pale boy momentarily to push himself on to the table, straddling over Chazz’s prone form. There was hunger in his eyes, mouth descending to suck a mark onto his neck, the wet sounds making Bastion finally shimmy his pants down to his thighs, taking his neglected cock in his hand, stroking it with a loose grip. Just enough to take the edge off of the searing arousal that accompanied watching dark purple marks appear on the unblemished expanse of Chazz’s fair skin.

“Ah!” Chazz arched off the table, his back bowing beautifully, giving Bastion new fantasies as to the things he could do with that amount of flexibility. Atticus took notice too, his hands gripping on to the bony hips, bringing them flush with his erection that was poorly concealed by the baggy cargo shorts. “Atticus! This isn’t part of the massage!”

“Mmm, you’re right, baby.” The camera zoomed in on how the brunette’s lips were placing kisses down Chazz’s spine, the remnants of massage oil clinging to them like cotton candy on a hot summer day, solidifying the idea that Chazz was worthy of all the sugary-sweet nicknames bestowed upon him. “This is just for me.”

“I’m not gonna be able to go outside like this!” Chazz looked back over his shoulder, where Atticus was sucking hickeys, purple marks littering his back. “Ow! Atticus!”

The brunette pulled away from the newest mark, which was placed squarely between bony shoulder blades. Bastion could see teeth marks in that one, not very deep given that it was on an awkward spot. What he would give to be able to sink his teeth into that yielding flesh. The cameraman, as if reading his thoughts, focused on Atticus’ teeth nipping their way up to Chazz’s neck, not as deep this time, just tiny red marks soothed by the swipe of Atticus’ tongue. Half-formed protests tumbled out of Chazz’s mouth, cut off by a whine as Atticus’ mouth latched on to his neck, the camera giving a delicious view of how he squirmed against the table, grinding his hips down on it, betraying how he really felt.

“Yeah, you’re gonna go outside. I’m gonna take you somewhere nice, cupcake. Gonna show you off and let everyone see how I own you.” Atticus gripped Chazz’s chin, pulling it to the side to smash their lips together in a heated kiss that had Bastion grabbing his cock tightly, willing himself not to come. “Other people may fuck you or jerk off to you, but I’m the one that you come back to, aren’t I?”

Atticus thrust his cargo shorts covered erection against Chazz’s ass, the thrust hard enough to make the table scrape against the floor. Bastion sucked in a breath, thinking of the sheer power in the brunette’s body. He’d seen Atticus fuck Jesse so hard the bench they were on had shook, but he didn’t appreciate it nearly enough then. Now, hearing Chazz whimper and press back into the touch as Atticus continued grinding his hips, he appreciated it in full.

Bastion always had a difficult time deciding who he would rather be while watching porn, but this was the hardest yet. Atticus pinning him down and thrusting against him, saying such filthy yet sweet things, calling him sugary nicknames and bragging about how he owned him was very appealing to Bastion, who chanced a gentle stroke on his cock, letting out a haggard breath as his stomach tightened and his heart jumped. Yeah, that would be hot. But then again, pinning Chazz down and touching and biting and tasting every bit of him was equally appealing. Bastion was wider and stronger, could definitely keep him in place as he pounded that perfect ass.

“Come on, baby, say it.” Atticus’ voice pulled him out of his fantasies.

“I can’t.” Chazz dropped his head down to rest on the table, face red and voice soft, barely above a whisper.

Anger flickered across Atticus’ face, the expression incongruous with his personality and making it more threatening. The previous gentleness he’d shown gone, Atticus wrapped his hand around Chazz’s throat, cutting off a yelp from the other boy as he jerked him upward so his chest was off the table, his back arched past the point of what was comfortable, Bastion watched, his breathing getting more intense and his tentative strokes speeding up as Chazz struggled to breathe through the grip around his neck.

“I’ve been too lenient with you..” Atticus nipped at Chazz’s ear, voice low and dangerous, making Bastion bite his lip and shift against the couch. “Here I am trying to do something nice for you, make you feel good, and not only are you complaining about a few hickeys but you won’t even say one little thing for me.”

“S-sorry,” Chazz choked out, tears welling in his eyes.

“You will be if you don’t stop being a brat. Now say it.”

Chazz waited a beat, as if expecting Atticus to relinquish the grip on his neck. Atticus did not. He just watched, face impassive, waiting for Chazz to either acquiesce or call his bluff. Bastion, who had accepted that he had an unhealthy interest in watching pretty boys get wrecked, was hoping that Chazz would hold his ground. He wasn’t proud of it, but the mere thought had his cock oozing pre-come, slicking his movements, wet sounds filling the living room.

“Y-you own me.” Chazz said, voice weak and raspy, going straight to Bastion’s cock.

Atticus paused for a moment, as if deciding whether Chazz’s declaration was satisfying or not.

Bastion shamefully hoped it was not.

“There you go, sugar plum. That wasn’t so hard.” Atticus kissed Chazz’s cheek before loosening his grip and lowering him gently back onto the table. “You gonna be a good boy for me now?”

The sudden intake of air had Chazz coughing, so he just nodded. Bastion felt slightly disappointed Atticus had let him off so easily, but that disappointment turned into curiosity as Atticus climbed off the table and fetched the bottle of massage oil.

“Still got a couple of places I need to rub down.” Atticus warmed the oil between his palms before placing them on Chazz’s lower back, thumbs fitting into the dimples there. “Yeah, baby that’s right. Just enjoy yourself.”

Chazz, with all the fight taken out of him, laid there, letting Atticus work out the tension, eyes sliding shut and breathy little pants escaping from his open mouth. Bastion didn’t stop stroking himself, drinking in the scene of Chazz’s oily, shiny skin, Atticus’ thumbs kneading his flesh, fingers resting on his hips, the camera giving the audience a spectacular view of Chazz’s ass. Bastion admired Atticus’ willpower, as he would’ve jumped straight to putting his hands on those pert cheeks.

“Addy?” Chazz lifted his head up, turning to look over his shoulder, biting his lip as if unsure he should be interrupting the other man.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Can you, um,” Chazz’s face bloomed in a blush. His hesitation shouldn’t have been that arousing, but Bastion and his cock were still very fond of the idea that Chazz would try Atticus’ patience again. “Can you uh, go lower? Please?”

“Am I not doing a good job?” Atticus smirked. “Or are you just that desperate?”

Bastion was getting increasingly desperate from his spot on the couch. He nodded at Atticus’ question and didn’t even have the decency to be ashamed at it.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Chazz opened and closed his mouth, fingers gripping at the table and cheeks reddening further. Atticus kept that smirk on his face, dutifully massaging the other’s lower back, waiting him out while he found the words.

“I, uh, um,” Chazz sputtered, and Bastion thought it was equal parts hilarious and endearing that he was so embarrassed to voice his desires given his line of work. “Can, uh, can you—touch me, please?”

“Gonna need to be a little more specific for me.” Atticus said and Bastion let out a groan. He was dragging this out for the sole purpose of torturing the audience, surely.

Chazz gave up on words. Instead, he pushed himself to his elbows and knees, knocking Atticus’ hands out of position, arching his back so his ass stuck out. Looking over his shoulder and biting his lip, he wiggled his hips to make it abundantly clear what he meant.

Bastion took his hand off his cock and counted to ten.

“Fuck. That’s hot.” Atticus was enjoying the view as much as Bastion was, eyes dark and hungry as they roved over Chazz’s body.

“Please, Addy,” The nickname was accompanied by another shake of Chazz’s hips. “I need it.”

Bastion was grateful he wasn’t touching his cock because he surely would’ve come on the spot. Atticus was similarly affected by the words, moving to the foot of the table before taking Chazz’s ass in his hands, fingers making indents in the pliable flesh, spreading them and making Bastion’s cock convulse from where it lay on his stomach, precome dripping ono his shirt.

“You’ve got such a pretty little pussy, baby.” Atticus licked his lips and Bastion hoped this was going where he thought it was. “Did you want me to put my mouth on you? Make it dripping wet and shiny like a girl?”

“Yes,” Bastion breathed out.

“Yes,” Chazz echoed, voice thick with desperation.

“Ask me nicely.” Atticus demanded, relishing in how Chazz’s eyes widened.

There was a moment of silence as Chazz swallowed his pride. “Please, Atticus, eat my pussy.”

Bastion, if he were hypothetically in this situation, wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation to dive in and close his mouth over that pretty hole, tasting every bit with his tongue. Atticus, however, leaned in slowly, starting with one tantalizingly slow lick, just barely touching where Chazz needed it. The black-haired boy’s forehead dropped to the table, fingers clenching and unclenching, a muffled whimper escaping his tightly closed lips.

“Fuck, you taste good.” Atticus pulled back, admiring the way his saliva glinted off Chazz’s rim.

Bastion burned with arousal and jealousy. That jealousy didn’t stop him from taking himself in hand and stroking as the camera lingered on Chazz’s spit-slick hole. Atticus leaned back in, flicking his tongue over it, the muscles clenching, accompanied by a moan from Chazz. Bastion pumped his cock in time with Atticus’ slow, languid licks, feeling his stomach tense with each stroke and his breathing grow heavier. It wasn’t a satisfying rhythm, more of a teasing one, which made Bastion want to writhe and kick his feet and psychically will Atticus to get a move on lest he explode.

When Atticus pulled back yet again, Bastion groaned, frustrated. Why couldn’t he just eat his ass or pussy or whatever they were calling it like he meant it so Bastion could get some relief? Though Atticus praising Chazz or making him beg for it was sexy, Bastion was going to throw a pillow across the room if the only reason he stopped was to say something mushy followed by a dessert-themed pet name.

Atticus didn’t say anything. His cheeks puffed out slightly, his face schooled into a look of concentration as his tongue moved behind his cheeks. Bastion watched, entranced but confused, not sure where this was going. He was in no way prepared for the wet sound of Atticus’ spit landing on Chazz’s hole. He was in no way prepared for the whine Chazz emitted, the black-haired boy’s cock dripping with precome as the spit slowly dripped from his hole, over his perineum, and along the seam of his sack. He was in no way prepared to watch it drip onto the table. He was least of all prepared for how he responded, his stomach tensing, heart rate accelerating, and cock dripping onto his hand. Bastion heard a long gravely moan coming from somewhere and was surprised to find out it was coming from him.

“Yeah, I knew you’d like that.” Atticus said. Bastion was unclear if he was talking to Chazz or the audience. It didn’t matter. “You may act like a prude but I know you’re a dirty little boy.”

That last sentence was like a punch to the gut, making Bastion’s head collapse back on the cushions. Fuck, that wasn’t directed at him but it sure did fit. He could picture those words whispered in his ear, making goosebumps appear on his neck. Closing his eyes, he let himself slip further into his fantasy, stroking himself faster, imagining it was someone else’s hand. They’d tell him how he was a slut for jerking off in the living room, his slacks down to his knees, dripping onto the shirt he’d worn to work. Maybe they’d threaten to make him wear it again tomorrow so all of his coworkers could see the evidence of his degeneracy. Maybe they’d be like Atticus and call him a dessert-themed name. Maybe they’d call him something like _sugar_.

The faceless person in his fantasies morphed into Tanya. Eyes snapping open, Bastion pried his hand off his cock and dispelled the thoughts with deep breaths, biting his lip to the point of pain. He couldn’t indulge. It didn’t feel right, though knowing Tanya if she ever found out she’d take it as a compliment and ask him to tell her his fantasies in detail. He wouldn’t be able to look her in the face ever again if he came thinking about how hot it would be for her to tell him he couldn’t hide how slutty he was despite his best efforts.

Best to turn back to the screen before he lost what remained of his control.

“Addy!” Chazz was pushing his hips back onto Atticus’ face, who was now eating him out with fervor, cheeks spread wide so he could bury his face between them.

Atticus didn’t respond to the cry of his name, just kept his mouth firmly in place, tongue moving behind his cheeks. The spit was making obscene wet sounds, covering Atticus’ cheeks and making Bastion dizzy with how hot the scene was. Chazz’s face was bright pink, his mouth open wide as whimpers and whines and cries of Atticus’ name blasted out through the speakers, hands gripping the table tightly, using that as leverage to rock back toward Atticus. The camera panned from Chazz’s face, down his hickey-covered back, ending on the brunette, focusing on his mouth hard at work. Bastion felt his tongue swipe over his bottom lip, yearning to trade places with Atticus.

“You stay just like that, baby. Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Atticus had pulled back, spit shining on his face, looking like a god despite his disheveled hair, the outline of his cock visible in his shorts. He stared at Chazz’s hole a moment longer, a self-satisfied look on his face. “Time for part two of the massage.”

Atticus was gone momentarily before reappearing with the oil. Instead of warming it up in his hands, he squirted it directly onto Chazz’s ass, making the boy jump from the cold sensation. Bastion watched, enthralled, as it dripped down his crack, mixing with the spit and making his hole look even more delicious and inviting and slick.

“Do you want me to finger your wet little pussy?” Atticus asked, his left hand resting on Chazz’s ass as he leaned down to speak directly into his ear.

There was no hesitation from Chazz. “Yes, Addy, please.”

“Say it.” Atticus commanded, left hand inching closer to Chazz’s rim, his right hand turning the boy’s head to look in his eyes. “Say it, cupcake. Love when that pretty mouth says such slutty things.”

Bastion had to agree.

Chazz swallowed thickly before letting out a ragged breath. “Please, put your fingers in my p-pussy, Atticus.” Then, in a lower, desperate tone, he added “I need it.”

Fuck. Bastion had to grip his cock and give a few strokes to relieve how that whispered admission made him ache with need.

“I know you need it, sweetheart.” Atticus’s middle finger brushed over Chazz’s rim, the oil easing his way. “I know you need me to open up this pussy.” He kissed Chazz deeply, his fingers not ceasing their movements, making Chazz rock back, chasing the sensations he desperately needed. “I know you need me to split that pussy open with my cock, fill you up until I’m the only thing you think about.”

“Please!” Chazz whined as Atticus continued rubbing over his hole but not pushing in. “Atticus, I need you inside.”

“Okay, gumdrop, I’ll give it to you.” Righting himself, Atticus turned his gaze to Chazz’s ass, where his left hand was still teasing his hole. “I can’t help it, you’re just so pretty when you’re needy.”

Not giving Chazz a chance to say anything else, Atticus sunk his middle finger in, not stopping until he could go no further. The camera focused on the way Chazz’s ass swallowed the digit, massage oil slicking the way as he slowly pushed in and out of the yielding hole. Bastion wanted to shuck his pants off the rest of the way, prop himself up on all fours and finger himself to fully appreciate the scene, but the bedroom was too far away and he was anchored to his spot on the couch. He wished he’d had the foresight to have lube near him before engaging in masturbatory activities. Next time he would remember.

“Fuck,” Atticus watched his finger disappear inside Chazz, his voice barely audible over the needy, debauched sounds Chazz was making, thoroughly enjoying having something inside of him at long last. “Doesn’t matter how many times you get fucked. Your pussy’s so tight, baby, gonna feel so good around my cock.”

“Atticus!” Chazz didn’t seem to be capable of saying anything that wasn’t his name. “Atticus, please!”

“Gonna make you squirt on my fingers first—that’s the patented part of the massage,” Atticus spoke to the camera on that last part, his tone incredibly serious and making Bastion snort out a laugh. The fleeting amusement was replaced with heat searing his insides as the brunette plunged his ring finger into Chazz, the black-haired boy letting out the most delicious moan, throwing his head back, fucking himself on the fingers. “Yeah, cupcake, that’s good. Such a good boy for me.”

The talking faded into _good boy_ s and _so pretty, baby_ , the camera focused on Atticus’ fingers deep inside Chazz. Atticus was moving his fingers in a downward motion, the muscles of his arm flexing and making Bastion wonder what he could do if he decided to use that strength. Chazz was a whimpering, blushing, squirming puddle on the table, his cock dripping, the head an angry red that had to be painful. Bastion remembered Jaden fingering him, how quickly the black-haired boy had come undone from that, how incredible he looked shuddering through his orgasm, and was beside himself with excitement, stroking himself in time with each movement of Atticus’ hand, waiting for Chazz to reach his end.

Just like in the performance with Jaden, it didn’t take too much time for Chazz to come.

“Don’t stop!” It wasn’t a breathy whine or a beg. It was a command, his voice strong and demanding and worthy of a prince. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Atticus said, moving his fingers faster inside of Chazz. “Come on, baby, come all over my fingers.”

Chazz didn’t waste any time complying, his eyes squeezing shut, mouth dropping open as his body tensed, fingers gripping the table and thighs shaking, struggling to hold himself up. Atticus didn’t stop, fucking him through each pulse of his orgasm, come dripping onto the table, a smile spreading across his face like he was patting himself on the back. Bastion wanted to give the man a damn medal for creating such an exquisite display for the audience to enjoy, his own cock throbbing in his tight grip.

“And that, everyone, is the Love Doctor’s magic fingers massage. Copyright Atticus Rhodes, patent pending.” The brunette faced the camera, flashing a thumbs-up, hand glinting with oil and eyes shining with delight. “Don’t worry though, I’m not done with him yet.”

Chazz was laying on his stomach, eyes half-lidded, enjoying his afterglow and Bastion admitted to himself he would probably do any manner of questionable things to be able to curl up next to him and feel that hot, sticky, sweaty skin against his, the little puffs of breath on his neck as the black-haired boy recovered.

“Flip over, sweetheart.” Atticus nudged him gently, and Chazz made a noise resembling that of a cat unhappy to be awoken from a nap. He complied, slowly turning onto his back, his stomach glistening with his release. “Scoot down here, yeah just like that.”

Chazz was perched on the edge of the table, leaning back on his arms, legs spread to Atticus could stand between them. Bastion was too far gone in his own arousal and anticipation for impending penetration that in a moment of weakness that he took his hand off his cock, pressed on the home button and lock button on his phone, screenshotting and thus immortalizing the image.

He could delete it later if he wanted to, he reasoned. Plus it’s not like he was going to share it with anyone. No harm done.

Turning his focus back to the performance, he was greeted with Atticus kissing Chazz once again, hands working at the button on his cargo shorts, dropping them to the floor and stepping out of them. Bastion had seen Atticus’ cock in the special last week, but just like how he hadn’t appreciated the man’s strength, he hadn’t appreciated how gorgeous his cock was either. There really was no other word for it. It was long and thick, the shaft curving back toward his stomach, the head flushed a pretty pink, a bead of precome dripping from the slit. Bastion had a vivid image of being on his knees, looking up at Atticus, who was still in his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, the brunette telling him to be a good boy, that there was no need to be shy, that he’d teach Bastion to be a good little cocksucker.

“Lean back a bit—yeah, that’s good.” Atticus watched as Chazz dropped down to leaning on his elbows, biting his bottom lip and looking at the brunette with the purest form of bedroom eyes that Bastion had ever seen. “Fuck, baby, you’re so hot. Can’t wait to get inside you.”

“Then don’t.” Chazz’s eyes flickered down to Atticus’ cock, then back up to his face. Bastion greatly empathized with the need for Atticus to be inside. 

“Do I have to remind you what happens when you’re a brat?” Atticus said, grabbing the backs of Chazz’s knees and bending them back. “Or are you just trying to rile me up so I’ll fuck you harder?”

“You can figure that out, I’m sure,” Chazz smirked, his voice full of his typical snark.

“You don’t have to be a brat, cupcake. You just have to ask nicely and I’ll pound this pussy until you can’t walk and the only thing you remember is my name.” Atticus rubbed his cock between Chazz’s cheeks, the remnants of oil making it glisten. “So why don’t you go ahead and do that or I’ll leave you here with your hungry fuckhole empty.”

Bastion didn’t like that idea. Chazz didn’t either, much to his relief.

“Please, Atticus,” he said, voice sugary sweet and needy. “Please fuck me.”

That was enough for Atticus to reach down and line his cock up, pushing the head in, Chazz’s breath quickening as his rim stretched. Putting his hand back on Chazz’s thigh, he pushed forward slowly, eyes fixed on where his cock was disappearing inside.

“Hey,” Atticus looked past the camera. “Come over here, get a close-up of this.”

The cameraman complied, moving closer and zooming in on where their bodies were joined. Bastion resumed stroking himself, entranced with the view of Atticus’ cock slowly moving in and out, Chazz’s hole stretched tightly around it, red and puffy and fucking delicious. Each push of Atticus’ hips brought forth a wet, squelching sound that had Bastion’s cock demanding attention.

“That’s so fuckin’ pretty. Fuck, this pussy feels so good, jellybean.” Atticus’s voice wavered, eyes sliding shut as he pushed forward into the wet heat of Chazz’s ass. “So tight and hot, my perfect little cocksleeve.”

Bastion jerked himself along with Atticus’ thrusts, the brunette slowly getting faster, drawing the most delicious sounds from Chazz, whose cock was hard again, slapping against his stomach with each movement. The table scraped along the floor as Atticus began to fuck him in earnest, Chazz’s head dropping back, his eyes glassy and unfocused, his fingers hooked around the edge of the table the only thing keeping him in place against the power of Atticus’ thrusts.

“Fuck,” Chazz breathed, his elbows giving out, head now hanging off the table, neck exposed and begging to be marked up more. “Fuck, Addy, your cock—”

“If you can still talk I’m not going hard enough,” Atticus griped, a sour look passing over his face, smacking his hips into Chazz’s, cutting off half-formed words and replacing them with a deep, needy wail. “That’s better, baby. Just lay there and take it. Take it like the perfect slut you are.”

“Fuck,” Bastion mumbled, hand speeding up, the precome oozing from his slit making the movement deliciously slick as he tightened his grip, imagining that his hand was Chazz’s ass, that he was the reason the boy’s face was slack and utterly blissful.

“Shit,” Atticus’ chest was covered in sweat, his bangs sticking to his forehead, brows furrowed in concentration as he plowed into the willing body beneath him. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, feel this pussy clench around me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Chazz gave a vaguely affirmative sound. The camera focused on his pretty face, red from the heat and exertion, down to his flushed chest, nipples hard and begging to be bitten and pinched until he cried out, down to his stomach, drying come from his previous load and precome from what was about to be his second mixing, ending with another close-up shot of Atticus’ thighs slapping his ass, cock plundering his hole.

“R-right there—fuck!” Chazz sobbed, words slurred together, making Bastion groan and increase his pace. Delicate fingers grabbed at Atticus’ forearm, searching for a grounding force in the midst of the intensity.

“Yeah, okay, baby,” Atticus leaned in, pressing his lips to Chazz’s ankle, hair falling about his shoulders and sticking to his face, Hawaiian shirt sticking to the sweat on his body and accentuating his muscular frame. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Atticus babbled out more praises as he fucked Chazz against the table, the scraping of the legs against the floor and Chazz’s incoherent, utterly delicious sounds drowning out the words. Bastion felt his thighs flexing, his heart thundering against his ribs, his mind getting foggier and foggier each time Atticus’ cock impaled Chazz. The temptation to come along with Chazz, who was thrashing his head about and digging his nails into Atticus’ forearm, was incredibly strong, the familiar feeling coiling in his stomach, his slit drooling onto his hand, breath coming in shaky, labored pants. He couldn’t. He needed to wait until the end.

“Atticus!” Chazz cried, untouched cock spurting onto his stomach, back arching as bliss overtook him, the camera sure to capture the way his rim fluttered around Atticus’ cock as the brunette fucked him through it, wringing every bit of pleasure from the boy’s fucked-out body.

Bastion felt his cock twitch, the flesh searing hot in his hand as he toed the line of his own orgasm. The tension in Chazz’s body released, making him collapse back onto the table, Atticus not once halting his movement.

“Fuck, come here.” Atticus took his hands off Chazz’s thighs to pull them chest-to-chest, thrusts shallower but no less powerful, capturing the other’s lips in a wet, messy kiss, their noses bumping and teeth clicking. Chazz’s arms wrapped around his neck, fingers rumpling the fabric of his shirt.

“Addy,” Chazz pulled away far enough to talk, the camera focusing on the inch or so between their faces. “Addy—hurts.”

“I know, cupcake, I’m sorry.” Atticus laid a gentle hand on the skinny waist, the other cupping the back of his neck, his shallow thrusts turning into sensual rolls of his hips, grinding into Chazz’s ass. “Just a bit longer, baby. You can take it for me, right?”

“Okay,” Chazz nodded, resting his forehead against Atticus’.

“So good, baby. Feels so fucking good inside you,” Atticus choked out, eyes squeezing shut, face red, breathing hard as he chased his own peak. “Can’t help it, sweetheart, just wanna keep you split open on my cock, screaming my name.”

Bastion couldn’t hold it in anymore. Like a tensed rubber band snapping, he doubled over, dropping his phone on the ground and hearing it clatter against the leg of the coffee table, Chazz’s pained yet erotic whimpers the perfect soundtrack to his orgasm. Hot, sticky come dripped over his fingers, a long, guttural moan rumbling out of his chest, every nerve in his body alight, face burning with heat, mind blissfully blank. A floaty, timeless feeling overtook him, stretching out the seconds into an infinity where everything was serene and made sense and his body was warm and relaxed.

Coming back to himself slowly, Bastion reached down to pick up his phone, hoping he hadn’t missed the end like he had last night, settling back into the cushions.

“I promise, baby, just a little longer. You can take it,” Atticus encouraged, tangling his hand in Chazz’s hair, kissing the boy’s cheek, temple, corner of his mouth, everywhere he could reach. “Fuckin’ perfect, Chazz. So strong, so good for me.”

Bastion watched, body limp, cock softening, come drying on his hand, riding the post-orgasm high and thoroughly enjoying watching Atticus give in to his own pleasure.

“On your knees.” Atticus stepped back, cock sliding out of Chazz, covered in oil, glistening in the light. “Gonna come all over your gorgeous face, cupcake.”

Sliding off the table and dropping to his knees, Bastion was certain that if he hadn’t already come he definitely would’ve come at the sight of Chazz on his knees, mouth open, tongue sticking out. Atticus fisted Chazz’s hair, jerking his cock with the other, Hawaiian shirt close to slumping off his right shoulder, and Bastion wanted to be there next to Chazz, his own mouth open and awaiting for Atticus to blow all over his face as well.

“Fuck!” Atticus’ hand tightened in Chazz’s hair, hips stuttering, abdominal muscles flexing, teeth gritting, his hand milking himself through his orgasm, fat drops of come landing on Chazz’s forehead, dripping down his nose, on his cheek, a few directly into his mouth.

There was a moment of calm, Atticus catching his breath. Bastion took a moment to admire how Chazz’s come-covered face was one of the hottest things he’d ever had the privilege of seeing. A thought of how he could screenshot that, too, and hide it in a folder titled something innocuous like “Taxes” or “Utility Bills” crawled across his mind, but he was too comfortable and loose to do anything but attempt to burn the image into his mind. It wouldn’t be that difficult. This was easily a contender for the eighth wonder of the world.

Breath caught, Atticus dropped down to the floor, pulling Chazz onto his lap, kissing him deeply, passionately, the camera focused on their tongues sliding together, lips moving in rhythm, hands grabbing at each other. This wasn’t the performance anymore. It was just them, Chazz and Atticus, in their own cocoon, ignoring the cameras and the audience and everything else to share a tender moment. Bastion was too relaxed to entertain the sour, jealous feelings that reared up in his chest. Instead he decided to enjoy that he was privy to such an intimate moment.

He also took a few mental notes about kissing. Just in case.

Atticus pulled back, his own come tacky and drying on his face, a glob in his eyelash. “That was fuckin’ awesome, baby. How’d I get so lucky?”

Chazz turned his head away, nose wrinkling, playfully smacking Atticus’ chest. “You can’t just say shit like that, Atticus.”

“I can if it’s true,” Atticus smiled, puckering up and smacking a wet, exaggerated kiss on Chazz’s cheek, earning him another swat. The brunette turned to the camera to sign off. “The Love Doctor thanks everyone for coming tonight, especially his extra special guest. Remember—” he flashed a thumbs up and a wide smile “—stay horny and I’ll see you next time!”

They waved to the camera as the screen faded to the Elemental Angel logo. Bastion dropped his phone onto the couch and stared off into space, breathing in and out steadily, not wanting to leave this quiet place of peace and contentment. The room had darkened considerably around him, the sun almost set, casting everything in that hazy gray hue specific to twilight. He’d had a hell of a day, but now it seemed far-off, like it wasn’t quite real. The feelings of inadequacy and anxiety would surely return. If not tonight, they may return tomorrow or even in the middle of the night.

At least he’d have another performance to look forward to Wednesday night.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope yall enjoyed!!!! p9 will include a q&a with jesse and syrus so if yall have any burning questions for our porn stars please feel free to put them in the comments below!!!!! if your question is selected then i'll modify your ao3 username into a twitter handle to pay homage to your contribution<3333


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